A Cat A Day Keeps The Boredom Away
by MermaidGirl34
Summary: Sherlock is bored again, and John is out. Little does Sherlock know, though, John is going to return with an unexpected present. An unexpected present that is going to elicit an unexpected response from the world's only consulting detective. One-shot, sappy


Sherlock lay in the armchair in 221B, sprawled out with his eyes closed, deep in thought as always. His gun sat on the ground next to him and the wall creaked slightly from the force of being shot so many times.

Because yes, Sherlock Holmes was bored.

And a bored Sherlock was never, ever a good thing.

"John," Sherlock mumbled, sinking deeper into the armchair and moaning his boredom. "John, get me some tea."

There was no response.

"John," Sherlock said again, getting irritated now at the lack of response and the possibility he might need to get up to locate his friend. "John, are you listening to me?"

Again, there was no response and Sherlock sighed. He hated pointless movement.

Groaning, Sherlock painfully and pitifully moved himself up into an upright position and looked around the flat. John was nowhere to be found.

He slumped back into the chair. John must have gone out again without him realizing. That seemed to happen a lot. He wondered why.

Just then, the door opened and John entered, wearing one of his normal jumpers and holding an odd box-like thing in his hand.

"Hello, Sherlock," he greeted the detective as he entered, placing the box on the table as he came in. "Miss me?"

"I asked you to get me some tea," Sherlock complained.

John sighed, knowing where this was going. "How long ago?"

"Not long," Sherlock muttered. "Five minutes?"

"Oh," John said, going to the kitchen and beginning to prepare tea. "So that's when you'd realized I'd gone, yeah?"

"Maybe," Sherlock said, admitting to nothing. He frowned and sat up, turning his head to look at his friend. "Where _did _you go, by the way?"

"Store," John said vaguely.

"What store?" Sherlock inquired.

John didn't answer.

Sherlock frowned and got up from his chair, coming around to the kitchen and putting both hands on the counter. He looked at John through squinty eyes. "I'll ask again," he asked pointedly. "What store?"

John sighed and finished stirring the tea. He handed Sherlock his and plopped two sugars in it as he did. He nodded to the armchairs. "Sit down," he said.

Sherlock gave him a suspicious, searching look, but took his tea and did as he said.

John joined him a minute later, sitting down in the opposite armchair and sipping his tea, staring at the package he brought in, which sat conspicuously on the coffee table.

Sherlock stared at it too, trying to deduce what was inside, but was unable. The only thing he noticed was that it had holes in it and that it had tiny blond hairs scattered across it that weren't John's. Annoyed, he looked up at John, impatient with his friend for not revealing to him what it was.

"Well," he said impatiently, gesturing to the box. "What is it?"

John looked at him suspiciously. "What, you haven't deduced what it is yet?" he asked.

"No," Sherlock snapped, getting more irritated by the second. "I can't quite tell. Some sort of animal?"

John bit his lip. "Yeah," he said slowly.

Sherlock frowned, truly lost now, which was saying something. "What sort of animal?" he asked. "Why did you bring an animal home?"

"I – you – " John sighed. "Just…just open it."

Sherlock gave John a befuddled, searching look, before reaching forward and lifting the top off the parcel.

From inside came a soft mewl, and clambering its way out of the box in a flurry of cuteness came a small, blond kitten.

Sherlock stared at it in horror and awe as the little thing climbed its way out of the box and looked up at him with wide, adorable eyes. It tilted its head slightly, before letting out a small meow and jumping up onto Sherlock's lap, burrowing into his jacket happily.

John watched this all happen worriedly, biting his lip as he waited for Sherlock to start yelling at him for being such an idiot, buying a cat, and kick the little thing halfway across the flat.

But he didn't. Instead, Sherlock gingerly lifted a hand and gently stroked the kittens fur with one finger, his mouth open and chest falling up and down carefully, so as not to scare the small thing.

He looked to John, and to John's surprise he saw tears in the detective's eyes.

"Did you get her for me?" he asked, his voice somewhat choked with uncharacteristic emotion.

"Yeah," John admits, staring at Sherlock in awe of this…this unusual display of emotion he was showing. "I was passing by the pet shop and saw her in the window, and caught her name and…and thought of you."

"Her name?" Sherlock breathed, still stroking the cat gently. She was purring quietly and rubbing her head against Sherlock's torso. "What's her name?"

John smiled. "Shirley," he said. "Sounded…sounded a lot like Sherlock to me, and she's got…got this mark…on her left back paw. Take a look."

Sherlock gently picked up the kitten's paw and looked at the bottom. His breathed left him.

There was a small mark in the cat's fur. A mark that looked like a –

"Magnifying glass," Sherlock breathed. "She has a mark that looks like a magnifying glass!"

John beamed. "Symbol of detective work," he said. "I saw it through the window and I couldn't…I thought…I mean, you get bored so often, and I thought maybe she could…could keep you company. And help you not get bored."

Sherlock stared at John for a long moment without seeing him, the tears slowly dripping down his face as he stroked the beautiful kitten.

John wasn't really sure how to handle Sherlock like this. "Are…are you okay, Sherlock?" he asked nervously.

"I had a cat once," Sherlock blurted out of nowhere, surprising John.

"Oh," John said dumbly, not expecting this. "You did?"

"Yes," Sherlock continued. "Her name was Smitty. A small cat that I got for my fifth birthday. She was the best thing that ever happened to me, Smitty. I had no friends in school. None of the other kids liked me. They thought I was weird and didn't like when I pointed out obvious things to them. Smitty was my only friend. We'd play pirates together. I'd be the pirate captain. Pirate Captain William Flintlock, that's what I called myself. I had a pirate's hat and sword and everything. And she was my first mate, First Mate Smitty. We had so much fun together."

He closed his eyes, the tears rolling down his cheeks as he clutched the small kitten to his heart. "Thank you, John," he choked.

John began to feel tears welling in his own eyes and he hastily wiped them away.

"You're welcome, Sherlock."


End file.
